You can take the pope out of Argentina, but . . .

Published 12:02 pm, Wednesday, December 11, 2013

During a trip to Argentina, Beth Dolinar had a strange experience. Whille attending mass in a small local church, she watched as a dog made its way up to the altar and plopped down on the church's floor. "People lined up to receive the host and then stepped around the dog as they returned to their pews," Dolinar says. "The dog slept through it all, having found a cool patch of floor."
Photo: Contributed Photo

More Information

Fact box

Page 1 of 1

So it's come to the world's attention that Pope Francis was once a bouncer at a bar in Buenos Aires. If it were his predecessor making the revelation, we might have been shocked. But this pope? The bouncer thing is just another whimsical detail we're learning about a pope who has his own ideas of what it means to be godly.

Francis is the first pontiff from the Americas, and the first from the Southern Hemisphere. And the Argentina connection interests me because it dovetails nicely with my own recent life.

In 2011, I traveled to the country three times to visit a childhood friend. While there, we attended Mass in General Alvear, a small city in Mendoza Province, near the border with Chile.

The church was less modern that what we are used to here in the states -- its stark wooden pews sitting atop cracked ceramic tile flooring. The church was crowded, with parishioners dressed casually for the Saturday evening Mass.

Knowing the prayers and order of the Mass from my lifetime in the church, I caught a bit of what the priest was saying. But when it came time for the homily, I became lost in the Spanish, and spent the time looking around. A welcome evening breeze swept through the open doors at the sides and back of the church; it was February -- their summer -- and very hot.

We were coming up on the "peace handshake," the moment where everyone turns to those nearby and offers a word of peace. My friend leaned down and whispered, "Say Paz con tigo," and gestured for me to turn to the woman next to me. I did, and she returned the greeting. Being a tall, fair American, I'm sure I didn't look like I fit in, but maybe for that one moment I sounded like I did.

And then something remarkable happened. As the priest was consecrating the host, a big, bony dog wandered through the front door. Nobody moved to shoo him out. The dog walked to the foot of the altar, circled around in place a time or two, and then lay down and closed his eyes.

The priest finished his prayers and stepped down from the altar to give communion, allowing room for the dog. People lined up to receive the host and then stepped around the dog as they returned to their pews. The dog slept through it all, having found a cool patch of floor. Nobody in the church seemed bothered or even all that interested. The dog felt like a nap, is all.

That's one of the many warm memories I have about Argentina.

Each time I read about Pope Francis teaching humility, showing humor and living a simpler life, I think of the dog that moseyed into the church in General Alvear.

Francis showed some of that same patience during a recent address at the Vatican when a little boy walked on stage and clung to the pope's robes, loitering there in the way little kids do to their parents. The pope gave his speech and the child stayed next to him. Every so often, the pope would pat the boy's head.

Pope Francis didn't bounce him. Back home in Argentina, his church didn't bounce the dog, either. Seems pretty godly to me.

Beth Dolinar is a former Riverside resident and Pittsburgh television reporter who is staying at home to raise her two children. She can be reached at cootieJ@aol.com.